


You Were Beautiful

by zhan9jun (seventheavenly)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut, 长得俊
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventheavenly/pseuds/zhan9jun
Summary: Zhangjing and Yanjun love each other.Only that it is at different points in their lives.Just never at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be Zhangjing with Yanjun, then Wenjun, then Ruibin. I had everything drafted out and was about to begin writing today when I realized that because I’ve seen too much Wenjun x Zhengting lately, I can’t bring myself to write Zhangjing with Wenjun and needed to swap some things around.
> 
> Say hello to Ziyi and pray that my draft will still remain intact!
> 
> Would just like to note that sex is often mentioned in this fic. However, I don’t feel like writing smut lately, so this will be me attempting to master the art of writing implied sex for now. Please don’t hate me and who knows, if you pray hard enough, maybe there’ll be actual smut in the future chapters?
> 
> I also did not beta read this, so please forgive me if there are mistakes! 
> 
> Lastly, in case you have yet to notice, it is, yes, another angst fic ._. At this point, I can’t say if it’ll be a happy or sad ending, so please don’t say I didn’t warn you… and um, enjoy?

 

Lin Yanjun does not believe in love.

 

Still, he is a gentle and warm man.

 

At least, You Zhangjing wholeheartedly trusts his friend to be so.

Even as Yanjun tugs impatiently at his shirt, his long fingers skimming past his shirt buttons to pull at his collar, even when his buttons clatter on the polished marble floor of the taller man’s apartment — Zhangjing firmly believes so.

 

Even when his naked back is pressed urgently against the cold kitchen countertop, when goosebumps run along his entire body from the chilly air — Zhangjing knows so.

 

Zhangjing no longer keeps count of the number of times he has ended up in Yanjun’s bed, of how many times they have had sex — and that is a lie he continues to tell himself everytime he hears their moans fill the other’s bedroom. Every single time he feels the soft silk of Yanjun’s bed sheets against his skin.

 

It feels good.

 

The silk.

 

The sex.

 

The denial.

 

He remembers the first time too well. _Their_ first time.

 

Filled with liquid courage and fueled by lust, both of them had agreed to sleeping together with no strings attached. Zhangjing remembers himself agreeing to Yanjun’s proposal all too quickly in his drunken haze, but the decision was not impulsively made at all.

 

After all, he had let weeks and months pass as the sexual tension between them continued to spark dangerously. From the first time they met in college, till after their graduations and even as they both pursued different careers. The tension lingered and eventually blanketed them every time they met up — be it alone or with a group of friends. Zhangjing would be lying to himself if he said that he did not see it coming, but honestly, he did not expect it to turn out this way.

 

To him, Yanjun was a long time friend: a handsome face, an expert at cold jokes, an intimidating aura over his caring soul. Someone he thought he would go through thick and thin with as he grew older, without anything that could come between their friendship.

 

Yet now, Yanjun is more than a friend. Or perhaps, less than a friend, depending on how much Zhangjing bothered to deny the thoughts crossed his mind. One whom he slept with much too regularly.

 

The older man knows it is a mistake, that he had been stupid to think that he would be satisfied if his intimacy with Yanjun is merely physical. That if they fulfilled each other’s lust, other needs would not matter if neither of them spoke of it.  

 

All because Lin Yanjun did not believe in love.

 

Not even when he nips a little too strongly on the soft skin of Zhangjing’s neck, his lips brushing against the older’s ear to whisper that he is close, that Zhangjing feels _too_ tight and too _good_.

 

Not even when he comes inside, repeatedly moaning Zhangjing’s name and digging his fingertips into the other’s milky skin to leave bruises. Bruises that Zhangjing did not mind in the least, because they were familiar marks that would serve as a reminder of his past mistake.

 

His ongoing mistake.

 

Yanjun has a habit of not immediately pulling out even after they are done. Sometimes, he would go again, twice, thrice — drowning them both in wave after wave of pleasure, and for Zhangjing, pleasure that came with a tinge of guilt.

 

Those times, Zhangjing would ask the other to stop — not because he doesn’t want to — but because it is too overwhelming. However, Yanjun soon came to realize that the other did not really mean for him to actually stop, especially not when he would mewl and move his hips in an exhausted effort to match Yanjun’s actions.

 

Since then, the word ‘stop’ no longer meant what it originally did to the both of them. If Zhangjing was too exhausted, he would just tell Yanjun so that the other would let him sleep — their backs against each other’s.

 

Sometimes, the word barely leaves Zhangjing’s lips before he pauses to wonder if he means for Yanjun to stop — or if he means it for himself.

 

Tonight, Yanjun seems satisfied after a single round and slides out of Zhangjing slowly, eliciting an unintended moan from the person below him. Yanjun smirks before leaning in to softly say: “You did well.”

 

There is still desire burning in Yanjun’s eyes when he tells Zhangjing not to move, and the older man squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath as Yanjun heads into the bathroom.

 

Zhangjing is too used to Yanjun’s post-sex routine: a short shower — because Yanjun just could not stand being unclean — followed by the other wiping him down with a warm towel. He hears the shower run, Yanjun’s humming, followed by the other rummaging through the towel drawer.

 

At the sight of Yanjun exiting the bathroom with a small towel in his hands, Zhangjing smiles despite his efforts not to.

 

He knows that Yanjun feels uncomfortable when people get too close to him. Their arrangement, upon further discussion — had to remain without strings, so Zhangjing keeps domestic thoughts and desires to himself. No admiring smiles, no confessions of affection, no cuddling — just sex and friendship at the most.

 

It is worth holding back, Zhangjing thinks, as he basks in Yanjun’s post-sex ministrations: from the careful way Yanjun moves him to the gentle brush of the warm towel across his body, wiping away traces of their earlier activity — but not enough to erase the marks on Zhangjing’s fair skin.

 

Once, Yanjun had paused halfway through wiping him to stare at a mark he had left in a particularly visible place: on Zhangjing’s neck, right below his ear. Absentmindedly stroking the spot, Yanjun had apologized guiltily then. Even though Zhangjing had ended up wearing turtlenecks for the whole week after, he told the other that he did not mind.

 

Tonight, Yanjun stares again.

 

“What is it?” Zhangjing asks in hopes that the other’s intense gaze would be directed somewhere else. Sure, they had seen each other naked countless times — but that did not make Zhangjing any less embarrassed, especially since they were both no longer under clouds of lust or alcohol.

 

“I might have gone slightly overboard with the biting tonight,” Yanjun says softly. Zhangjing would think that the other is embarrassed too, but he knows Yanjun too well to know that the other is secretly proud. “Sorry.”

 

Rolling to his side, Zhangjing sits up to look at the huge mirror in Yanjun’s bedroom. His reflection stares back: slightly dazed and his body covered in a myriad of marks — courtesy of the owner of the bed he currently sat in.

 

“You call this slightly?” His voice comes out higher than he intends it to.

 

“At least none of them would be visible…”

 

“If I wore long-sleeved shirts all week, yes,” Zhangjing groans.

 

“I’ll buy you dinner the whole of next week.”

 

“Deal.”

 

Yanjun chuckles and Zhangjing does the same, leaning towards Yanjun out of habit and stopping himself in time. The other does not seem to notice his self-restraint, and especially not the ache that taps at Zhangjing’s heart.

 

Zhangjing does not hope that he will notice, anyway. He never has, because he does not want to be disappointed. He respected their agreement and did not want to jeopardize it in any way.

 

“Are you working tomorrow?” Yanjun hangs the towel on the back of a chair and returns to the bed, arranging the duvet to cover them both. “Yes I am,” Zhangjing holds back from shuffling closer to the other’s lean and naked body. “I’m launching an upgraded version of the strawberry shortcake.”

 

Yanjun’s eyes seem to light up at the mention of Zhangjing’s new recipe. “The one you let me try the other day?”

 

“That same one,” Zhangjing smiles freely at the other this time.

 

“I should drop by to get some,” the younger muses out loud. “Would you keep some for me? I’d be bummed if they were sold out by the time I arrive.”

 

“My bakery doesn’t accept reservations, Mr. Lin,” the baker reminds, but giggles when the other frowns. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

 

“Good boy,” Yanjun smiles, immediately grabbing Zhangjing’s arm when the other swings it his way. “So fiesty. I’ll reward you well the next time we meet.”

 

“Are we talking about actual rewards? Or rewards as in you doing this,” Zhangjing motions to the marks on his body, “again?”

 

“I’ll grant you a favour,” the taller man answers after a short moment of thought. Lin Yanjun barely grants favours, so Zhangjing nods immediately at the offer.

 

They bid each other good night and Yanjun makes sure that Zhangjing is well-covered by the duvet before switching the light off, plunging the room into pitch black darkness. It is the only way Zhangjing can sleep, so Yanjun has come to make sure his bedroom is void of any form of lights at night.

 

In the dark, Zhangjing hears the sheets rustle as Yanjun lies down. He does not need to see to know that Yanjun is facing away from him, because the one time he did not — the one time after they first slept together — they had woken up in each other’s arms and Yanjun had avoided having any form of physical contact with Zhangjing until much later.

 

All because Lin Yanjun wants to be far away from love, far away from being in a romantic relationship — because he does not believe in love.

 

However, You Zhangjing does.

 

And it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, I would really love to hear your thoughts about it!
> 
> Having someone talk to me about the fic really helps in getting the next chapters done, so feel free to comment or drop by my Twitter (@zhan9jun)! My DMs are always open for talks about ZhangJun :3
> 
> If you voted for any of my [next fics on Twitter](https://twitter.com/zhan9jun/status/1030851783193649152), I **am** working on Either Or, Neither Nor! I did a lot of tweaking to the draft, so it's taking longer and I decided to finish up this chapter first :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t have this chapter beta read, so excuse any typos and other mistakes!  
> (I’ll fix them in the future!)

Waking up in Yanjun’s bed always results in Zhangjing starting his day in an unpredictable mood.

 

On the days where Yanjun is next to him when he stirs from slumber, Zhangjing jolts awake immediately — feeling too much like a teenager faced with his first crush. Only that he is no longer a teenager, even if Lin Yanjun manages to stir up the same emotions he felt for his first love. Unfortunately, or fortunately, that had only happened a handful of times.

 

Most days, Zhangjing wakes up alone in Yanjun’s king-sized bed. He has been given access to the other’s apartment, so Zhangjing lazes whenever he has time to spare, enjoying the expensive sheets that Yanjun had no doubt meticulously chosen and purchased.

 

The curtains are drawn apart, allowing soft sunlight to spill in through the tall windows. It is Yanjun’s way of waking Zhangjing if he left earlier, so that the older man would not oversleep.  Letting his gaze wander around Yanjun’s room, Zhangjing is reminded of his relationship, his _arrangement_ with Yanjun. Not many have seen Yanjun’s apartment, much less his room. To wake up in it at least twice a week is a privilege Zhangjing held dear. One that cost too little and too much at the same time.

 

In all honesty, Zhangjing knows all the reasons to why Yanjun leaves early. The first is always because of work, especially when he considered the nature of Yanjun’s career. If one could even refer to it as a career. The second reason is Yanjun’s father — who is soon to relinquish his position to Yanjun at work. The third, is because he is uncomfortable being domestically intimate with Zhangjing, especially when they are both sober.

 

Nine of out ten times, it is the first reason that results in Zhangjing waking up in an empty bed. Yanjun’s father may be intimidating and strict, but he is mostly reasonable and never calls upon his son without prior notice unless there is an emergency. Emergencies that Yanjun would never tell Zhangjing about in detail, also due to the nature of his background. “The less you know, the safer it is,” the other insists — and Zhangjing knows it too, so he never pries.

 

Even though he is used waking up to Yanjun’s absence, that did not mean Zhangjing did not look forward to the very rare times when the other would be there. He remembers the few times he stirred before Yanjun had: the few times he had been able to look at the other’s handsome sleeping face without the worry of being scrutinized, the few times he had let himself pretend that they were more than friends, that their sex had more meaning beyond fulfilling their lusts.

 

Letting out a soft sigh, Zhangjing reaches to find his phone on the table. He does not remember taking out his phone from the pocket of his jeans the night before, it is Yanjun who always makes it his duty to retrieve and place it there for Zhangjing.

 

Yanjun is thoughtful and Zhangjing loves it.

 

Loves him.

 

Glancing at the clock, Zhangjing groans softly for no one to hear. He body feels sore, something he thinks he should have become accustomed to by now, considering how often he slept with Yanjun — but the ache still manages to catch him off-guard.

 

Bathing in Yanjun’s exquisite bathroom is one of the perks of sleeping over. Yanjun loved bathing, so he had ensured that he would be able to do so in utmost comfort. As the hot water rains down on Zhangjing, his thoughts drift to the morning after their first time.

 

Considering the fact that they had only slept after going at it for five times, Zhangjing had not believed that he would wake up before the sun set. Still, he did — because Yanjun had shifted abruptly, removing their arms around each other. The older had blinked sleepily at Yanjun who stared back, realization dawning upon both of them as memories flooded their minds.

 

Yanjun does not usually show his fiercer side to Zhangjing, but he had not bothered masking his displeasure that morning. Displeasure that Zhangjing soon came to recognize as Yanjun’s mask for _fear_. The younger man immediately stalked off to bathe then, spending over an hour in the bathroom before emerging, looking just slightly less angry.

 

“Are you angry?” Zhangjing had asked, making sure to use the particular tone he always used when coaxing the other man. However, Yanjun had ignored the question, moving to clothe himself instead. Zhangjing remembers the dread that filled him as he watched Yanjun put on a shirt, the realization that he had slept with one of his closest friends sinking deeper into him. It would change their relationship forever, more likely in a negative light than one he could be happy over.

 

Perhaps Zhangjing had looked very dejected then, because Yanjun tells him not to cry and to go shower. As usual, the other’s voice is stern but soft.

 

He remembers standing in the shower back then, weeks ago, letting the water rain over him as if it could wash his mistakes away.

 

Now, he understands that it is futile.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, Zhangjing!”

 

Flashing a tired smile at Zhengting, Zhangjing leans over the counter. “Morning, what can I get for you?”

 

“Do you even need to ask? Those strawberry shortcakes that people have been lining up for! I hope you saved some for me,” the other man shoots him a skeptical look.

 

“Of course I did. Would you like to take them away or have them here?”

 

“Would you have time to join me for breakfast? It’s been ages since we caught up with each other!” Zhengting’s eyes light up, reaching to hold Zhangjing’s hands in hopes that the other would agree. “But if you have to tend to the crowd, that’s fine. I can just leave and perhaps see you after a millenia…”

 

“It hasn’t been **that** long since we last met,” Zhangjing rolls his eyes. “Let’s eat together, my employees can handle this.”

 

As soon as they are seated in the private room, Zhengting pushes a large paper bag into the baker’s arms, announcing that they are souvenirs from his trip. Zhangjing is about to thank his friend when he peeks into the bag to see a pile of lacy underwear and what looks suspiciously like a pair of furry handcuffs before closing it up immediately. Blushing furiously and stammering, Zhangjing asks if Zhengting had made a mistake.

 

“Hmm?” Zhengting retrieves the bag to take a look before laughing shamelessly. “You’re right. Wrong bag, sorry. This should be the one.”

 

The correct bag is filled to the brim with various snacks and desserts, immediately eliciting a sound of delight from its recipient. “Thank you, Zhengting! You’re the best! I love you!”

 

“Do you now?” The other rests an elbow on the table, his hand propping his chin up. “You love me, but would hide things from me?” Zhangjing’s excitement dies down immediately at the words and he bites his lower lip.

 

“You’ve heard?”

 

“What about?” Zhengting is especially skilled at coaxing information from Zhangjing, it is a fact that the older man had come to accept since their college days. Still, the other’s inquisitively cunning questions manage to catch him off-guard.

 

“Nothing,” Zhangjing lies, knowing very well that the other can see through him.

 

“Nothing,” Zhengting takes a sip of tea before continuing, “as in nothing you think I should know? Or nothing you’d like to share?” When the other doesn’t reply, he takes a bite of the strawberry shortcake. “This is great, Zhangjing! Can I put in an order for more? I should bring it back for the others to try, especially Chengcheng! But, I digress — so, what do you have to say for yourself?”

 

Zhangjing forces a weak laugh and says that there is nothing he thinks is worth sharing. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, under the other’s scrutinizing gaze and wonders if he can excuse himself without suffering Zhengting’s wrath. Before he comes up with an excuse to leave, however, a familiar name slips past the other’s lips.

 

“Lin Yanjun.”

 

Knowing that he has been found out, although Zhangjing is unsure to what extent, he gives up and prepares himself for the onslaught of questions. Or worse, a lecture.

 

“Didn’t I warn you about getting so close to Yanjun?” Zhengting sighs, his eyebrows furrowed. “You two were friends before I came along, I get it. You know about his family business and chose to continue being friends, fine. He and I come from the same background, so I can’t tell you to keep your distance with him while I keep you close. But there are many going after the Lin Family, Zhangjing. It’s not safe. Their family’s business treads in waters so much riskier than my family does.”

 

Zhangjing knows. He knows as much as Yanjun and Zhengting have allowed him to know.

 

“I’m not saying this just because Yanjun is from a rivalling family, Zhangjing,” the other stresses. Zhangjing can hear the worry and desperation in his voice and it plunges him into a pool of guilt. “You’re not from our world. Being friends with us already puts your life at risk, but if you enter Yanjun’s inner circle — you’ll be exposing yourself to danger. You’re practically welcoming it to you.”

 

“We’re not like that,” Zhangjing manages to reply. “Yanjun and I have always close friends and that’s it. Nothing’s changed.”

 

“Close friends who stay over at each other’s place every other day?”

 

“We stayed in the same dorm in college, Zhengting, it’s not that big a deal…” Zhangjing tries to convince himself.

 

“College,” the other pauses to finish his tea in one gulp, clearly getting angrier by the second. “Lin Yanjun was barely involved in his family business in college, Zhangjing. You could’ve married him then and you’d still be somewhat safe. Things are different now.”

 

“H-how so?” Zhangjing asks, even though he has an inkling about the reason.

 

“Yanjun has been trained since he was young, and is protected twenty-four seven. If anyone wanted to get to his family, they’d be pretty stupid to target him. The people around him, however, are tempting hostages.”

 

“I’ve been hanging out with Yanjun for years, though,” Zhangjing begs to differ. “Me, Chaoze, Dinghao, and a whole bunch of others.”

 

“As friends, yes,” Zhengting shakes his head, irritated that his friend isn’t getting his point. “But if you’re his lover, you’re a prime target, Zhangjing.”

 

The older man does not know whether to laugh or cry at the words. “You’ve got it wrong, Zhengting. We’re not like that. Not _lovers_.”

 

“What do you mean you’re not lovers?” Zhengting frowns. “The word that is going around the gangs are that you’re practically staying at his place. If you’re not lovers, then wh- oh.”

 

A silence moment of understanding passes between them both and Zhengting’s frown deepens even more before he sighs and looks at Zhangjing sadly. “Please tell me you have no romantic feelings for Lin Yanjun.”

 

It is easy to lie to himself, but to lie to Zhengting who can read him like a book proves too much for Zhangjing. Getting up from his chair, the other walks over to wrap Zhangjing in a hug. “You’re so stupid, You Zhangjing.”

 

It is a phrase Zhangjing has been telling himself recently, but to hear someone else affirm it brings tears to his eyes. He holds them back to the best of his efforts, letting Zhengting pat his head and stroke his back.

 

If he allows himself to cry now, he would no longer be able to lie to himself after.

 

* * *

 

The bakery’s doorbell jingles to signal another guest. Zhangjing looks up, immediately forcing himself to smile. Thankfully, the patron is someone who is able to make him smile effortlessly.

 

“Nongnong!”

 

Walking out from behind the counter, Zhangjing lets himself be enveloped in a tight hug. It sends a comforting warmth through his body, all the way to his bones, much like how the city outside is drenched in the orange hues of the sunset.

 

“It’s been a while,” Linong says. “You look like you’ve lost weight!”

 

Flashing him a smile, Zhangjing asks if he is being honest. Linong assures him and asks how business is before asking if there are any strawberry shortcakes left. “Yanjun sent me over to buy some. I was supposed to drop by earlier, but some incidents came up.”

 

At soons as Linong mentions incidents, Zhangjing’s eyes dart around to examine the other’s attire. He remembers spotting blood stains on the other’s clothes a few months back, only to find out that he was admitted to the hospital after. Since then, Zhangjing has tried to pay more attention to things like these — things like Yanjun or Linong being hurt but not telling him.

 

He does not spot anything unusual today and breathes a soft sigh of relief.

 

“I’ll bring some over to his place later,” Zhangjing informs Linong, but if you’d like to bring some back now, I do have a fresh batch coming out in a few minutes.”

 

“What did Yanjun do to deserve you?” Linong jokes and moves to sit at a nearby table. “I’ll wait for that and grab some for the boys. You can proceed with your personal delivery, I’m sure Yanjun would love that.” There is a knowing look on Linong’s face and Zhangjing sticks his tongue, turning around to storm back into the kitchen. The other’s laugh reaches his ears and his smiles too, feeling less heavy after the long talk with Zhengting earlier in the day.

 

* * *

 

As Zhangjing drives through the busy night traffic, he tries to not let his thoughts drift back to his conversation with Zhengting. It proves to be difficult, especially with each traffic light he stops at. He had texted Yanjun to let the other know he will be dropping by his place to pass him his pastries, both of them knowing that it is merely an excuse to meet up sooner for satisfy cravings beyond baked desserts.

 

His phone rings with a text notification from Yanjun.

 

_Will be late, but not too late. See you in a bit. I’ll get dinner._

 

Aware that his lips lift into a smile at the short message from the other, Zhangjing replies that dinner better be excellent if Yanjun is going to make him wait. It barely takes a minute before Yanjun replies, saying that he has never bought subpar food for Zhangjing. Another message follows after: _Even if the food isn’t up to your expectations, won’t my body make up for it afterwards?_

 

Zhangjing tries to stop the images that flood his mind upon Yanjun’s words, biting his bottom lip and replying the message with a string of eye rolling emoticons. The other replies with an equal amount of winking and kissing emoticons before Zhangjing puts him on read because the light turns green.

 

Yanjun’s apartment is situated near the outskirts of the city, since he preferred it to the bustling metropolis noise and lights. After clearing the traffic of the central district, Zhangjing only needs to cruise down some highways before making a somewhat hidden turn to where the other lived.

 

Whenever he drove along the highways, his mind would start to wander — today’s thoughts courtesy of Zhu Zhengting. Zhangjing can still hear the other’s plea in his mind: “As a friend, I really want to put a stop to whatever is going on between you and Yanjun. I don’t care if you’ll hate me for saying this — I just want you to be happy, Zhangjing. And _safe_.”

 

Zhangjing had not replied him then, because he had no idea how to. It was not as if he had never thought of the consequences of his agreement with Yanjun. But he had not thought of them to be so ominously severe.

 

“If you don’t love Lin Yanjun more than your own well-being, not just emotionally but also physically — please, listen to me,” Zhenting had held his hands, as if he were praying to Zhangjing.

 

“I don’t know,” Zhangjing half-lies. “But what if… I do?”

 

“If you do,” Zhenting’s pauses hesitantly before looking sternly back into Zhangjing’s eyes, “do your best to convince yourself that you don’t.”

 

* * *

 

The guard at the lobby nods at Zhangjing as he presses the button to the elevator. There are only five floors to the apartment complex, with Yanjun owning the entire fifth floor. Even though Zhangjing already knew about the financial abundance of Yanjun’s family, he had still been shocked when he first came to know of the other’s residence.

 

Scanning his access card, Zhangjing lets himself into the humongous and still-intimidating apartment. The lights of the doorway and living room flicker as he makes his way to the kitchen, carefully transferring the pastries from the paper bag into the fridge. For the briefest moment, he wonders if he should just leave a note and excuse himself. Perhaps that would help put some distance between Yanjun and him, emotionally.

 

Perhaps he is just desperate.

 

He barely comes to a decision when his phone rings. Answering impulsively without glancing at the caller’s identity, a familiar voice reaches his ears. “I’m twenty minutes away, see you soon.” Zhangjing’s heart is racing for reasons he doesn't want to acknowledge, and he fails to voice out a reply.

 

“Is everything all right?” Yanjun asks, worry evident in his voice.

 

“Yeah,” Zhangjing answers breathily, before clearing his throat to answer with more conviction. “Everything’s fine.”

 

There is a short pause before Yanjun answers that he is sorry for making Zhangjing wait, that he Zhangjing can himself at home and help himself to any of snacks in his kitchen, as long as he does not start on alcohol alone. Zhangjing chuckles at the specific offer and final rule, telling Yanjun to just drive safe and be back soon.

 

When they hang up, Zhangjing looks bitterly at his phone. How was he supposed to convince himself that he did not have feelings for the other, when such a simple conversation could fill his stomach with butterflies? If Yanjun treated him colder, if the other would actually properly distance himself from Zhangjing, perhaps it would be easier to pretend.

 

Yet, Zhangjing cannot even blame Yanjun for being nice to him. It was how Yanjun had treated him when they were friends — it had always been like that, and still is.

 

Taking a seat at the dining table, Zhangjing is once again reminded of the morning after their first time. Seated across Yanjun after his shower, Zhangjing had been served with homemade breakfast — a rather simple one, but still breakfast.

 

And prepared by Lin Yanjun.

Toast and eggs, with orange juice for himself and milk for Zhangjing, both from the carton. It is the first time Yanjun has cooked for them, or for anyone, since Zhangjing met him. His heart had clenched and and fluttered at the thought.

 

It still does whenever Zhangjing thinks about that morning.

 

* * *

 

“ _We need to talk,” they both say at the same time._

 

_“Good.” Again, they reply in perfect synchronization. Chuckling, Yanjun takes a sip of his orange juice before clearing his throat. “I’ll just get straight to the point, if you don’t mind?”_

 

_Shaking his head, Zhangjing motions for the other to continue._

 

_“Do you remember what we said last night? About not having any strings attached to our actions?”_

 

_Still at a loss for words, Zhangjing nods._

 

_“I enjoyed last night. Did you? Because if you did, I have a proposal to make.”_

 

_Zhangjing knows Yanjun too well to know that his proposal will be anything but romantic, but he hopes anyway. He forgets for a moment that those who hope are the ones who get disappointed._

 

_“If you’d like to, I’d like to do this again in the future. For a long time - but with no strings attached still.”_

 

_The former comes as a surprise while the later causes Zhangjing to scoff internally. Of course Yanjun would want no commitment. In fact, he would be rather surprised if the other had proposed otherwise. Still, he can’t help but feel as if he has just been complimented and insulted._

 

_Despite that — despite the slow ache burning through his heart — he feels a guilty thrill. Like a child who is given forbidden candy._

 

_“You’d like to continue…?”_

 

_“I did say I enjoyed it,” Yanjun smirks, something flickering dangerously in his eyes. “Very much.” He then repeats an earlier question: “Did you not?”_

 

_Realizing that he had never answered that particular curiosity of the other’s, Zhangjing looks down at his toast. “If I didn’t, I would have stopped you right after the first round,” he admits softly._

 

_Yanjun laughs — his deep voice resounding in the quiet apartment, his unrestrained laugh that not many have heard. “Does that mean you agree?”_

 

_When there is no reply from Zhangjing, the taller man continues: “Why are you acting all bashful now? The You Zhangjing from last night, or rather, earlier this morning was still aggressively demanding.”_

 

_“Was not!” The memory of himself climbing into the taller man’s lap flashes through Zhangjing’s mind. Yanjun grins knowingly in response, not bothering to argue about it. They begin eating in silence, both with unsaid thoughts in their minds — but both unsure of how to phrase them out loud._

 

_“The whole no strings attached thing… can we define that?” Zhangjing asks after a while. Yanjun nods immediately and asks if he wants to start first, or if he has other conditions in mind. “Does it just mean that we sleep with each other without commitments, that we can still see other people, that we’ll stop whenever we want to…?”_

 

_“The first part is the most important to me,” Yanjun replies. “I want our relationship to stay as it is. As friends. No dating, no expectations beyond what’s physical. I don’t have plans to see anyone either — you already know I don’t bother to. As for stopping whenever, yes.”_

 

 _“Do you… also do this with others…?” Zhangjing manages to ask after a lot of hesitance. He receives a puzzled look in response, Yanjun’s eyebrow is raised and the other shakes his head. “You Zhangjing, you’re one of my closest friends, if not_ **_the_ ** _closest. You know I don’t do this.”_

 

_“Then why last night? Why me? I honestly didn’t even know you liked guys.”_

 

_“You’re really attractive, did you not know? I’ve never considered sleeping with guys either until… well, you.” Yanjun looks at his seemingly dense friend, whose cheeks are getting redder by the second. “If we weren’t friends, I might have tried to sleep with you a lot sooner.”_

 

_“Does that mean we’re no longer friends because of last night?”_

 

_“That’s why we’re talking about it now, aren’t we? So that we can agree to draw a line that is comfortable for both of us,” Yanjun’s gaze is serious and sincere and his next words almost break Zhangjing’s heart. “You’re attractive and I like you as a friend, and I don’t want our relationship to go anywhere beyond what we already have. You understand… right?”_

 

_“Fair enough,” Zhangjing says softly. “And yes, I understand.”_

 

_He really does, but that does not stop Zhangjing from wanting to see if Yanjun really did not care for him at all beyond what a friend would. “Am I allowed to see other people?” For a second, Zhangjing thinks he sees anger in Yanjun’s eyes, but the other is laughing right after, nodding._

 

_“Of course you’re allowed to. That’s the perk of having no strings attached.”_

 

_“Right,” Zhangjing forces a smile, “where do I sign then?”_

 

_Yanjun laughs at his friend’s choice of words and tells him to finish his breakfast._

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing feels fingers running through his hair and a brush of lips on his ear. Startled, he jumps in his seat to hear Yanjun’s amused chuckle. “You fell asleep at the dining table? The couch would have been a better choice.”

 

Blinking the remnants of his unintentional nap away, Zhangjing blames the other. “If you arrived earlier, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep out of boredom!”

“My apologies, I had some business to tend to.” Yanjun walks over to the kitchen to pick up two plates topped with roasted chicken and sides. “I bought dinner like I promised, though. Forgive me?”

 

Zhangjing can barely stay mad at anyone when they offer food to him, much less stay mad at Lin Yanjun. They dig into dinner and talk about their day — although Zhangjing divulges more details compared to Yanjun. The taller man’s trade is not one he speaks openly about, after all. Zhangjing thinks he is already fortunate to be allowed to know of it.

 

When they are done with their mains, Zhangjing brings out the shortcakes, much to the younger man’s delight. Yanjun showers Zhangjing with compliments, claiming that there is possibly nothing more delicious than the shortcake. “Except, perhaps,” he smirks, “you.”

 

In his efforts to not blush at the statement, Zhangjing rolls his eyes and takes a huge bite of his own cream puff. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Lin Yanjun!”

 

“Mmm, but I don’t plan to go anywhere,” Yanjun’s voice is suddenly deep and wanting. Before Zhangjing figures out why, the other leans over to grab the back of Zhangjing’s chair. Supporting himself, Yanjun licks bits of cream from the side of Zhangjing’s lips.

 

‘It isn’t fair,’ Zhangjing thinks as he feels himself going weak at the sudden action. ‘It isn’t even a kiss and my body has already surrendered.’ Yanjun doesn’t pull back, his lips hovering dangerously close to Zhangjing’s as he stares into the other’s eyes that are already sinking into a daze. “Are you all right?”

 

‘No,’ Zhangjing thinks but answers otherwise. “I’m great.”

 

It is all Yanjun needs to hear before kissing him fiercely, tasting the lingering sweetness from the cream puff in Zhangjing’s mouth mingling with the different yet similarly sweet aftertaste of strawberries on his own tongue.

 

As for Zhangjing, the overwhelming sweetness in his mouth comes with a tinge of bitterness.

 

* * *

 

Yanjun is there when Zhangjing wakes up. The younger man’s back to is facing Zhangjing as he buttons up his shirt. The older asks sleepily if Yanjun is heading to work, turning to look at the clock and frowning. “It’s barely five in the morning.”

 

“Something came up.” Yanjun never elaborates much. Zhangjing knows that it is because the information is confidential, and because it is safer for him not to know — but he can’t help but feel too much like an outsider at times.

 

Despite being half-awake, Zhangjing manages to ask if he is seeing Yanjun later that night. “You promised me a whole week’s worth of dinner. You better not bail,” Zhangjing warns, but his sleep-laden voice just makes it come off as a flirty pleading than an actual threat. It works to elicit a chuckle from Yanjun who is usually grumpy in the mornings.

“I never go back on my word,” Yanjun steps over and nudges Zhangjing through the blanket with his foot, earning himself a soft growl from the older. “I’ll text you before dinner time to see if I should meet you somewhere or back here again?”

 

“You better, or you’ll never taste those heavenly shortcakes ever again.”

 

Another chuckle. “Be careful of your food intake, You Zhangjing. Linong was telling me about your last excruciating diet. Let’s not go there again.

 

Zhangjing pouts but he feels Yanjun’s fingers in his hair, ruffling it before the warmth quickly disappears, as if it were never there. For the slightest moment, he almost forgets — almost whining to ask for a kiss — only to hear Yanjun’s voice in his head: _“I don’t want our relationship to go anywhere beyond what we already have. You understand… right?”_

 

Zhangjing understands well.

 

But it does not make reeling in his feelings of affection for the other any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original plans for this chapter: shorter, with decent progression and a cliffhanger.  
> What it ended up as: so much longer, with so much less progression and no cliffhanger :(
> 
> Get ready for all the things I didn’t write in this chapter, in the next chapter? :)  
> I’m on Twitter (@zhan9jun) if you’d like to talk to me about this fic, or any other fics of mine for that matter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned in the notes of the first chapter, that if someone prayed enough, perhaps I would actually write smut. I guess someone did pray hard enough….?
> 
> WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS IT (ˊ̥̥̥̥̥ ³ ˋ̥̥̥̥̥)
> 
> However, I don’t even know if this is considered smut, and I have never written smut in my entire life (yes I love ZhangJun THIS much), but I am trying to be a responsible adult — so please read at your own risk! I’d like to stress that it is entirely accidental because my drafts did not include me delving into details like this... I kept deleting only to re-write again, so I stopped resisting and just went with the flow. 
> 
> I also didn’t want to taint my usual beta reader, so if you see any typos or mistakes, I apologize in advance! This is also one of the longest chapters I have ever written, so… enjoy? (ノ*°▽°*)

Zhengting rolls his eyes as soon as Zhangjing is seated opposite him, hungrily eyeing his plate of freshly-piled food from the buffet line.

 

“Pull your collar up,” the other shakes his head and sighs. Zhangjing is immediately distracted from his food, his hands quickly reaching towards his collar, suddenly reminded of the marks on his neck. Feeling his cheeks burn, he pulls his collar higher and avoids looking at Zhengting until the other slides a box across the table.

 

“A souvenir,” Zhengting says before Zhangjing gets to ask.

 

“You went on a trip again?”

 

“Just a short one out of town. I hope you like it,” Zhengting winks. Looking at his friend skeptically, Zhangjing unties the huge pink ribbon around the box and opens it slightly, only to shut it immediately, his cheeks turning a few shades redder.

 

“Zhengting!”

 

“Does that mean you like it?”

 

Zhangjing groans and pushes the box back to Zhengting, only to have the other stop him and push it back. The older tries pushing again, but Zhangjing merely lifts a perfectly drawn eyebrow and smiles at him. “We can do it all day until our meals grow cold.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Zhangjing admits defeat and shoves the box into his bag, mumbling an insincere thanks.

 

“Are you free this Friday?” Zhengting asks as he starts on his lunch, as if he had not just forcefully gifted a vibrator to a friend. As Zhangjing goes through his schedule in his mind, the other adds: “It feels like forever since I’ve met up with you.”

 

“You’re exaggerating, it’s only been slightly over a week.”

 

“We could’ve met sooner if you weren’t so preoccupied with a certain Mr. Lin,” Zhengting laments teasingly. “You were at his place all week, I could barely catch you before my trip.”

 

Zhangjing bites his lower lip as he tries to make his excuse reasonable. “We had prior dinner plans.”

 

“For a whole week? Don’t you guys get bored of seeing each other every day?”

 

Zhangjing is about to say that he only sees Yanjun at night, and that they had hung out daily since their college days, but Zhengting leans closer to whisper: “Or is the sex _that_ good?”

 

Refraining from letting out an exasperated scream, Zhangjing resorts to kicking Zhengting’s foot under the table instead. Wincing slightly from the pain, the other shifts to sit properly in his chair, holding up his hands in defeat.

 

“What’s happening on Friday?” Zhangjing asks, taking a mouthful of pasta after. Even though they met more often than their initial agreement, Yanjun and Zhangjing had originally crossed off Fridays to sleep together. Mostly because they would have the weekend ahead in case they chose to tire themselves out; and in Zhangjing’s case, it gave him time to re-orient himself and let certain marks fade before the work week kicked in.

 

“Just a get together with a group of friends. I’d like you to join.”

 

Zhangjing raises an eyebrow at the seemingly harmless yet suspicious invitation. “Do I know any of them?”

 

“You know Justin and Chengcheng,” Zhengting folds his fingers as he counts, “there are a few others you might’ve seen before but I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced you to them.”

 

“Is there a reason why you want me to meet them?” Zhangjing voices his suspicion, even though he already has some guesses. Zhengting isn’t dense and notices immediately, so he does not bother beating around the bush. Still, her does not make his intentions too obvious. “I have a few trips lined up from next week onwards and want to spend more time with my close friends. It’d be nice if I could hang out with everyone in one go.”

 

Since befriending Zhengting, Zhangjing had known the other to care for him as a brother would. With that in mind, he chooses not to pursue Zhengting’s original intention: to have Zhangjing meet more people in hopes that he would spend more time away from Yanjun. The other had always treated him with best intentions in mind, after all.

 

Moreover, Zhangjing himself knows that it is for the better.

 

To more he kept his feelings for Yanjun at bay, the happier he would be.

 

“I actually already have plans on Friday,” Zhangjing says, and upon seeing the look directed at him, he quickly adds: “It’s true! I… meet Yanjun every Friday…”

 

It isn't that he can't reschedule, but his answer makes his priorities clear to both of them. Even though Zhengting looks like he wants to say something, he merely keeps quiet and chews on his lunch.

 

Neither of them bring up Yanjun or their plans on Friday throughout the rest of the meal.

 

* * *

 

Waving goodbye, Zhangjing turns around to make sure that the doors to his bakery are securely locked. It had been a long day: from guiding a new employee to lunch with Zhengting, followed by preparations and final checks for an event that would be held there tomorrow.

 

He yawns and stretches his arms to the sky, turning around to take in the evening scenery in that corner of the city. Besides the street lamps, huge billboards illuminate the streets, their vibrant colours reflecting off the puddles that had gathered due to an earlier bout of rain. Thanks to that, the air is colder than most evenings and Zhangjing huffs to amuse himself, watching puffs of warm air rise and dissipate.

 

A sudden honk startles him and he looks around in panic, worried that someone had seen his childish antic. However, as his gaze lands upon a familiar car, his calms down and a smile tugs at his lips. The driver’s window of the midnight blue car winds down to reveal Yanjun, who waves at him.

 

Zhangjing waves back and ponders if he should walk over, wondering if Yanjun had just been passing by or if he is looking for him. Even though the older man hopes it is the latter, he really does not want to get his hopes up any further.

 

Before he drowns in thoughts, Yanjun gets out of his car and walks over. It is silly, Zhangjing knows, but his heart still races when the other approaches him in his well-fitted suit, his strikingly handsome face drawing attention from other pedestrians.

 

Feeling his cheeks warm up, Zhangjing looks down and bites his lower lip out of habit. He feels Yanjun’s fingers — the other’s familiar slender fingers — reach to hold his chin, tilting his face up to look up so that their gazes meet.

 

“What’s wrong? Why are you blanking out here?”

 

Yanjun’s face is too close for comfort and Zhangjing’s heart skips a few beats, his tongue getting tied and his stomach twisting into a mess of knots. As he struggles for an answer, Yanjun waits — his gaze unrelenting and curious, his face inching closer with each passing moment.

 

“It’s been a long day,” he finally manages to say, after coming to a spontaneous conclusion that Yanjun wouldn’t be so bold as to kiss him right there and then. Still, his mind supplies him with blurred imagery of what if Yanjun **_did_** , and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly to will them away.

 

“What a coincidence,” a smile appears on Yanjun's face despite his words, “so did I. Would you like to come over to my place then? Is it a bad time to ask?”

 

It isn’t, and is in fact a highly tempting invitation — so Zhangjing agrees immediately without hesitation, goosebumps and anticipation brushing across his skin. He lets Yanjun guide him back to his car, not failing to notice that the other’s fingers lingered lightly on his elbow — as if he is a child that would run off at any moment. The action is unusual and questions pop into Zhangjing’s mind, but he does not voice them, choosing instead to relish in the warmth from the slight but rare gesture.

 

Climbing into Yanjun’s car, Zhangjing closes his eyes, glad to finally take a seat after standing and walking about all day. He hears the car’s engine come to life and ponders if he will fall asleep listening to its hum during the drive, but Yanjun does not step on the gas after.

 

Wondering if anything is amiss, the older man opens his eyes to ask, but is met with the sight of Yanjun leaning over him to help him buckle his seat belt. Catching sight of the look of surprise on Zhangjing’s face, the younger merely tells him that it is dangerous to be in a moving car without being buckled in. He then pulls out of the space they are parked at, as if helping Zhangjing with his seat belt is something entirely normal.

 

It is not that Yanjun did not care for things like that, after all, they are friends. Zhangjing knew best how warm the other could be. That is why he understands better than anyone the fact that Yanjun chooses to help others with minimal intimacy, that he draws a clear line between friendship and anything more: be it brotherly bonds or romantic feelings. When they first met  in college, the younger had a reputation of being a lone wolf. Until now, that impression still stuck with Zhangjing: just that Yanjun is a warm lone wolf.

 

And perhaps, slightly less solitary when it came to certain people.

 

Perhaps, and hopefully: him.

 

Thus, Zhangjing does not stop himself from being curious about the sudden shift in Yanjun’s actions. He looks at the other who is focused on driving, and asks: “You said you had a long day, but you seem to be in a good mood. Was it a good kind of long day?” He tries not to sound too intrusive, knowing that the other did not like indulging him with information about his family’s business or anything relatively related.

 

The corners of Yanjun’s lips lift and there seems to be a twinkle of amusement in the younger boy’s eyes as he answers: “Yes.” The simple answer is not followed by more details, so Zhangjing accepts it as it is — with one question answered, but all the more curious.

 

“Have you eaten?” Yanjun asks after a moment of silence.

 

Zhangjing ponders before gasping in surprise and answering that he had forgotten to do so.

 

“Really?” Yanjun sounds genuinely amused at his reply, causing Zhangjing to truly wonder what happened for him to be in such great spirits. “You Zhangjing forgetting to eat? Are you sure you’re the Zhangjing I know?”

 

Reaching over to slap his arm playfully, Zhangjing pouts. “It’s really been a long day!”

 

The other does not even flinch at the slap, already used to it since their college days. With a smile still on his face, Yanjun says: “But that’s good, because I’ve bought ingredients. I’ll cook for us.”

 

If the fact that You Zhangjing forgot about dinner is surprising, the fact that Lin Yanjun offered to cook dinner for them both is even more so.

 

* * *

 

Zhangjing does not expect Yanjun to cook anything fancy, but the other still manages to surprise him with a wholesome meal of steak and sides. They are seated next to each other at Yanjun’s dining table, candle lights dancing across the marble top and reflecting off the huge mirror that hung on the wall to the side.

 

As if the candles were not enough to confuse Zhangjing further, the younger man even retrieves a wine from his treasured collection. Naturally, by the time they are done with dinner — Zhangjing is slightly tipsy and more tempted to ask Yanjun about the reason behind his stellar mood.

 

However, instead of voicing his question, he offers to do the dishes instead. Yanjun nods, his glass still half full with wine. As Zhangjing collects the dishes, he feels the other’s gaze on him: from the table all the way to when he stops at the sink.

 

There, Zhangjing rolls up his sleeves before starting on the dishes, but he is barely done soaping when he feels Yanjun behind him. With the warmth of Yanjun’s chest on his back in addition to the arms around him that are reaching towards the sink, Zhangjing almost drops the plate in his hands.

 

The younger man’s name escapes his lips — originally intended as a question, but when Yanjun’s lips brush over the shell of his ear, it becomes an invitation instead. Feeling heat rush to his cheeks, Zhangjing bites the inside of his cheeks and angrily asks what the other is up to.

 

His tone comes off as barely angry, however, sounding flustered and enticing instead. Yanjun’s deep chuckle tickles Zhangjing’s ear before he whispers: “Let me help you with the dishes, it’s rude to have a guest clean up all by himself.”

 

As his knees are feeling weak, Zhangjing makes no protest. Not even when Yanjun’s supposed idea of helping him comes in the form of the other’s long fingers wrapping around his to wash the dishes. It is highly ineffective, the soap getting between their hands and the other’s fingers obstructing Zhangjing from reaching for the things he wanted to, but neither of them seem to mind. In fact, they stay like so: back-to-chest and fingers left loosely intertwined, even after the dishes are done.

 

His curiosity taking over, Zhangjing begins to guess the cause of Yanjun’s actions: from the unexpected visit, his offer to cook, and his rare display of domestic intimacy.

 

Could it be a new kink?

 

Or is Yanjun playing some elaborate prank on him?

 

Perhaps it is some kind of test to see if Zhangjing would cross over the lines they had agreed on?

 

Caught in between his paranoia and desires, Zhanging merely appreciates the proximity between them — enjoying the feeling of Yanjun’s chest pressed against his back, not daring to do anything more. Yanjun, however, has other plans in mind.

 

Resting his forehead on Zhangjing’s shoulder, Yanjun’s fingers tighten and loosen around Zhangjing’s and make their way towards the other’s wrist. Securing a hold around both and holding them against the counter, Yanjun presses a kiss behind the older’s ear — at a spot that he knows Zhangjing is extremely sensitive at.

 

Unable to stop the half-gasp-moan that escapes his lips, Zhangjing feels tears pool at his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden pleasure that mixed with confusion. From the corner of his eye, he sees their reflections in the mirror: Yanjun’s closed eyes and the contented on his face — next to his own flushed cheeks.

 

“Can I stay like this for a while?” Yanjun asks, his eyes still closed.

 

_Of course. You can stay like this forever and I’d not complain._

 

“I might have to charge you,” Zhangjing tries to joke, but the words roll off his tongue as a nervous whisper, resulting in Yanjun’s grin widening.

 

“What’s your price?”

 

“A lifetime supply of hot pot, perhaps.”

 

“Two lifetimes, and that would still be a great deal.”

 

Yanjun’s words — their entire conversation — unravels the caution that Zhangjing has tirelessly worked to tie around his heart, causing his restrained affections to seep out dangerously. He looks up, worried that the tears in his eyes will drop. Trying his best to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring within him, Zhangjing loses track of how long they stay like that.

 

When Yanjun finally breaks the embrace, he asks if Zhangjing would like to stay over or if he would like to head home. “You mentioned that there’s an early event at the bakery tomorrow. Let’s not tire you out tonight in case you miss it.”

 

Since their arrangement, this is the first time Yanjun has not proceeded to bed him after bringing him over — and Zhangjing has mixed feelings about it. Half of him is thankful and rather hopeful that Yanjun could see beyond their physical needs to just enjoy their friendship, or perhaps something else; the other half is worried that Yanjun is no longer interested in him that way.

 

Even if it is only physical.

 

Zhangjing knows that he should head home, to untangle himself from the web of temptation and guilt, but he hears himself saying: “I’ll stay. But I need to be at the bakery early tomorrow. Could you drop me off at work when you head out?”

 

Yanjun seems more than happy to oblige, stating that he has an early morning tomorrow too. “Let’s sleep earlier then. You can shower in my room if you’d like, I’ll use the guest bathroom.” It is a rare offer, considering how much Yanjun loves the bathroom linked to his bedroom. Zhangjing usually showered there too, before or after the other — but he supposes that Yanjun really wants to sleep earlier, thus making such an offer.

 

“It’s fine,” he declines, grabbing his bag and heading towards the guest room. Yanjun pulls on his bag in an attempt to stop him, but Zhangjing’s bag isn’t properly zipped and the opposite force causes it to drop, spilling some of its contents onto the polished wooden floor.

 

Usually, it would be nothing to worry over, as Zhanging never carried anything fragile in his bag anyway — but he had not secured Zhengting’s gift after opening it, causing the gift to fall out of its box amongst the other scattered items. A pink vibrator has no problem standing out amidst other mundane items and Zhangjing screams silently, scrambling to return it into his bag.

 

Yanjun beats him to it, however, and raises an amused eyebrow at the vibrator as he examines it in his hand. “That’s not mine, it’s a gift from Zhengting,” Zhangjing blurts out as he tries in vain to snatch the offensive object from Yanjun.

 

“Why are you panicking to explain? I wasn’t going to say anything.” The smirk on Yanjun’s face, however, implies otherwise. “Besides, if it’s a gift from Zhengting to you, it’s still yours.”

 

Letting out a frustrated groan, Zhangjing lunges to retrieve the vibrator. Yanjun yields and allows it to be taken from him as the other changes the topic. “I’m showering in the guest bathroom,” Zhangjing states, pushing Yanjun into the master bathroom and leaving no room for protest.

 

Zhangjing then heads towards the drawer where the his extra clothes are kept, retrieving a bundle of clothes before making his way to the guest room.

 

He never makes it inside.

 

Instead, he finds himself standing dazedly in the living room, his surprise and confusion sinking in now that his sudden bout of embarrassment has ebbed away. What was Yanjun playing at?

 

Did he even know what he was doing earlier?

 

Was it intentional, did something drastic happen to trigger his unusual actions?

 

Or could it really just be an elaborate prank?

 

Despite his many questions, Zhangjing finds no answers. Instead, he is reminded of Yanjun’s back hug earlier, their intertwined fingers, the kiss — and the younger man’s head rested on his shoulder. Goosebumps travel across his skin at the fresh memory and Zhangjing’s breaths shorten, suddenly wanting more.

 

Wanting closure.

 

* * *

 

The doorknob feels cold to his touch and the marble floor even more so, not helping to ease Zhangjing’s nerves.

 

“Yanjun?”

 

He does not wait for a reply, stepping into the bathroom and walking towards the shower stall. The sound of running water echoes in the enclosed space and Zhangjing bites his lower lip when he makes out Yanjun’s naked form through the glass. There is a look of surprise on the other’s face as he watches Zhangjing head his way, his lips parting slightly when fair fingers move to unbutton his own shirt.

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing repeats himself, this time no longer asking for permission. Biting his lip yet again as his shirt slides off his shoulders to pile onto the floor, he takes a shaky breath and steps towards the shower door. It is not as if they have never seen each other naked, but Zhangjing has never been the one to initiate anything, especially when they are both sober.

 

Placing a hand onto the handle of the door, Zhangjing hesitates for a moment and wonders if Yanjun ever feels like this when he wants him. Did the other ever worry about whether he would lose interest? Or did his thoughts always mirror his actions: aggressive and diving head-first into passion and needs?

 

Jumping slightly when Yanjun pulls the door open, Zhangjing takes a step back and looks at Yanjun. The other’s hair is drenched: hair dripping wet with droplets of water clinging onto every inch of his tan skin. Zhangjing’s gaze then moves towards Yanjun’s eyes, feeling his throat go dry at the intense look that is returned to him.

 

Despite his trembling fingers, Zhangjing manages to unbuckle his belt and step out of his pants — all the while feeling the other’s fiery gaze on him. Yanjun makes no move to touch him, his hand merely gripping the handle of the door tightly.

 

“Yanjun,” Zhangjing’s voice is shaky now, tinged with a shameful need. “I want you.”

 

The taller man's eyes darken at his words, and his lips press into a thin line. Yanjun’s expression makes Zhangjing wonder if the other had really wanted to have some time alone and to go to sleep as soon as he could.

 

Was he being a bother?

 

Suddenly unsure, Zhangjing shifts his gaze downwards, only to feel his cheeks flush. There is no doubt that Yanjun wanted him very much too, at least, his body did. The taller man’s own intentions are then shown when his hand reaches out to hold Zhangjing’s neck: droplets from his hand make their way down Zhangjing’s fair skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Yanjun’s fingers then follow suit, tracing along the other’s neck, chest, and finally resting on his waist.

 

Without much warning, Zhangjing is pulled into the shower stall — but Yanjun doesn’t let their bodies touch. The gaze in Yanjun’s eyes is even more overwhelming at the close distance and Zhangjing reaches out but his grip is halted, Yanjun’s other hand holding his wrist firmly away.

 

The action chases away the last remnants of Zhangjing’s bravado. He had already felt entirely unlike himself to be so aggressive, and Yanjun’s mix of hot and cold responses are not helping in the least. Yanjun’s left hand is back at his neck, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the skin there, as if spurring him on; yet the other’s right hand is tightening over his wrist — stopping him from doing anything more. The touch on his neck is highly distracting and Zhangjing has to bite back a moan when he speaks again.

 

“Yanjun,” he throws away the last threads of his dignity for the night in hopes of easing his frustration. “Do you want me too?”

 

The other’s answer is immediate and hoarse: “Yes.”

 

Hot water rains over Zhangjing when Yanjun tugs him forward, their bodies colliding roughly as their lips instinctively seek each other’s out. Their erections are pressed between heated skin, hard and strained as large hands find their way impatiently across Zhangjing’s soft skin.

 

When he is pushed back against the cold glass, a hiss escapes Zhangjing’s lips — the chill on his back too abrupt and overwhelming. There is a smirk on Yanjun’s face when he asks: “Why did you come over here? Were you too scared to bathe alone?”

 

“Shut up,” Zhangjing glares at him, “let’s finish this quickly so you can get your beauty sleep.”

 

The other’s deep laugh echoes in the bathroom. “You walked in here and stripped without warning while I was showering,” Yanjun hand moves to fondle Zhangjing’s ass as he speaks, “and still expect to sleep soon?” Reminded of his impulsive and shameless actions, Zhangjing fails to reply.

 

It does not seem like Yanjun expects an answer, anyway, as he lowers his lips next to Zhangjing’s ear to whisper: “Don’t think of sleeping at all tonight.” His words barely register in the older man’s mind before Yanjun bites at the skin under his ear, causing him to scream out in surprise. His subsequent moans are then hungrily swallowed by Yanjun and Zhangjing feels his knees really give out this time: his body surrendering to the younger man’s aggressively skilled touches, in addition to the mix of hot water and cold glass against his skin.

 

“Yanjun,” he pleads between nips and bites on his lips, “I can’t…”

 

The other scoffs before speaking, his warm breath mingling with the steam in the air: “So soon? I’ll make sure to keep you going till the end.”

 

Lin Yanjun is a man of his word, lifting Zhangjing’s legs to wrap around his waist as he moves them towards the wall. The tiles are just slightly warmer compared to the glass, but to Zhangjing, they feel equally cold if not more so — in contrast to the warmth of Yanjun’s length against the back of his thigh.  Caught in excitement and pleasure, Zhangjing shudders at that particular contact; and when he feels Yanjun’s long fingers brush across his entrance, a sound between a gasp and ‘please’ slips from Zhangjing’s lips

 

However, the touch is gone as quickly as it came and Yanjun chuckles. “What was that?”

 

At this point, Zhangjing isn’t thinking about his dignity anymore. “Please, Yanjun,” he almost shouts, his patience wearing very thin.

 

“How polite of you,” the other comments, his fingers returning to tease Zhangjing. “The lube is in the bedroom though. Should I go get it, along with your vibrator?”

 

Maddened that Yanjun is choosing now of all time to bring up his unwanted gift, Zhangjing reaches to bite the skin of Yanjun’s neck. “Lin Yanjun,” his fingers grip Yanjun’s shoulders tighten, “stop playing around and just fuck me already!”

 

Contrary to his earlier impatience and aggressiveness, Yanjun does not comply immediately. His fingers move to hold Zhangjing’s waist tightly before leaning close to say: “Would you even be satisfied if I do? Isn’t that why you brought a gift with you?”

 

“Lin Yanjun,” Zhangjing is almost sobbing, “are you angry at me for a something I received? I already told you I didn’t bu- ah!”

 

Yanjun pushes a finger into Zhangjing before the other finishes his sentence, adding a second and third soon after without waiting for Zhangjing’s body to get used to the abrupt penetration. The bathroom is soon filled with echoes of the his voice: his moans, him repeating Yanjun’s name over and over, his begs for Yanjun to _please_ give him more.

 

“You’re so needy tonight,” Yanjun comments teasingly, but if Zhangjing had opened his eyes then, he would have seen the other’s restraint crumbling as well. Yanjun’s brows are furrowed as he presses messy kisses onto the fair skin of the other’s face and neck, his breaths shallow as he represses his growing desperation to bury himself within Zhangjing, despite all his teasing.

 

“Hurry,” Zhangjing whines, reaching forward in hopes of touching himself for relief. Yanjun’s hand finds his, halting his actions once again. In the process of doing so, the support he had for Zhangjing falters and the other drops slightly — but Yanjun presses against him with more force against the wall and manages to stop him from falling.

 

Startled yet thrilled, Zhangjing feels tears sting his eyes. Pleasured yet deprived, wanted yet not entirely, so close to release but not — he shifts to bury his face in Yanjun’s shoulder. He hears Yanjun groan from the sudden tightening around him and says: “Serves you right for almost dropping me.”

 

The other growls frustratedly in reply and sound of the shower immediately ceases after. In the sudden silence, the next thing Zhangjing registers is the sound of footsteps on the marble floor, followed by the feeling of his body being dropped onto the silk sheets of Yanjun’s bed. Water remnants from his body seep into the bed and Zhangjing wonders why Yanjun would let them do so. He faintly remembers the other reminding him to dry himself well before climbing onto his sheets. “Not the bathroom?” Zhangjing asks, without much clarity.

 

Yanjun’s answer comes in the form of spreading Zhangjing’s legs and hooking the other's ankles over his shoulders. Grabbing the other’s hips, the taller man guides himself to Zhangjing’s entrance, pushing himself into the other as a soft sound of relief escapes his lips. Without giving the other any time to adjust, Yanjun immediately settles into a pace of frenzied thrusts.

 

Startled by the abrupt burst of pain and thrill, Zhangjing is unable to find his voice and resorts to screaming silent cries of pleasure instead, his toes curling and his fingers dragging against the bedsheet in desperate hopes of not losing himself too soon. He feels Yanjun’s lips at his neck, licking and biting — sometimes deviating to suck on his nipples and leave marks on his chest. Zhangjing does not know which is more arousing: the sound of Yanjun’s unrestrained groans, or the slapping of their skin against each other’s.

 

Zhangjing’s finds his voice again when Yanjun hits a certain spot repeatedly: his need spiking and his soft moans soon turn into cries mixed with pleads. Through half-lidded eyes, he sees Yanjun smirk and thinks that the other will ignore his incoherent requests, but Yanjun actually slows down for a moment to ask: “What do you want?”

 

“Deeper,” Zhangjing manages to say, before attempting to prop himself up on his elbow, wanting to turn his back towards Yanjun. “This way.” Zhangjing urges, remembering the bliss that always came from being in that position.

 

“No,” Yanjun stops him from moving further and adds: “Stay like this.”

 

The other has never denied his requests to be in a certain position before, so Zhangjing becomes anxious once again. As if sensing so, Yanjun reaches to stroke his cheek. “I just want to see your face,” he confesses. Zhangjing’s heart flutters at his words and he nods.

 

If Lin Yanjun wanted to see his face, he would be more than happy to oblige.

 

Still, Yanjun does not dismiss Zhangjing’s need for more pleasure and shifts to sit on the bed instead, motioning for the other to straddle his waist. Wasting no time, Zhangjing wraps his legs around the taller man’s waist as the other positions them both for better access. This time, Zhangjing sinks himself onto Yanjun without warning, his lips lifting in a smile upon hearing Yanjun’s shocked gasp.

 

Zhangjing’s little triumph doesn’t last long, not with Yanjun’s fingers lifting his waist — just high enough — only to drop him down abruptly to meet the thrusts of his hips. Despite being the one on top, Zhangjing does not feel in control at all. Instead, his body soon slumps forward, overwhelmed by Yanjun’s relentless thrusts and unable to hold himself up any longer.

 

He tries not to think about how good it feels to be filled and stretched by Yanjun, about how tightly he is clenched around the other — even after so many times, allowing him to feel every inch of Yanjun’s length every time it slid into him. The taller man’s fingers are gripping his waist tightly and Zhangjing wonders dazedly if it will leave marks on his skin, the image causing more moans to spill from his lips without restraint.

 

Through his haze of pleasure, Zhangjing hears himself repeating the other’s name over and over, as if it is the only way to keep himself conscious. He hears Yanjun too: sometimes telling him how amazing it felt to be inside him, and sometimes whispering about the other things he imagines doing to Zhangjing. Then sometimes — these were Zhangjing’s personal favourites — Yanjun would call his name too.

 

Zhangjing loses track of how long they stay in that position, in the addictive manifestation of their lust, but just when he thinks that he is finally used to the vigorous pacing — Yanjun’s hand wraps around his neglected erection. The sudden touch causes profanities to spill from his lips and he hears a satisfied hum in response.

 

Matching his pumps to his thrusts, Yanjun picks up the pace and Zhangjing soon feels himself yearning to come undone. He begs, pleads, cries and moans, telling Yanjun to _please_ , to do **_that_ ** again, to make him feel even better — and they both knew that Yanjun definitely would.

 

Slipping into bliss, Zhangjing feels Yanjun’s tongue lapping at his lips before delving into his mouth. He only registers the blinding pleasure of his climax as he spills himself into the unyielding grasp of Yanjun’s fingers. The other does not remove his grip, keeping them tightly wrapped around Zhangjing and stroking him until his breathing becomes less erratic.

 

Then, laying him upon the bed, Yanjun strokes Zhangjing’s hair and whispers words of comfort that don’t really sink into the other’s mind. Coming back to his senses slightly when Yanjun lifts him to pull himself out, Zhangjing’s brows furrow and he tries to prop himself up on his elbows. “Yanjun, you haven’t….”

 

“Mnn.” The other places his hand rests on Zhangjing’s chest and pushes him back down. Too exhausted to rebel, he obliges.

 

“One minute.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I said that you won’t be sleeping tonight. You know I’m not one to eat my words, I’ll give you one minute before we continue.”

 

A sudden panic grips Zhangjing. He knows that Yanjun is one to do whatever he says, but he had honestly thought that he had only been teasing him!

 

“I… I have to be at the bakery tomorrow for an event. Early,” Zhangjing swallows before continuing, “very early.”

 

“Knowing you, I’m sure you’ve prepared well, had all your staff briefed and that the event will go smoothly even without you being there to oversee it,” Yanjun guesses.

 

“Of course I did,” Zhangjing answers immediately, being one to take pride in his professionalism, but realizes that he should probably not be saying so. “But it’s better if I’m there…”

 

“If you’re awake by the time we’re done, I’ll drop you off at work.” Yanjun says, offering a smile that only made Zhangjing more nervous. He then shifts towards Zhangjing to cup his face, bringing their lips together again.

 

Being kissed by Yanjun is like being under a spell, and Zhangjing’s resolves **always** crumble. Especially when Yanjun’s tongue seeks his out, tangling their tongues in an intoxicating dance.

 

However, Zhangjing tries to resist this time — perhaps a sudden resurgence of his earlier bravado, and he pushes Yanjun away. The other seems unfazed by his actions, merely raising an eyebrow as a slight smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

 

“I want to sleep,” Zhangjing says, not really meaning it — only because a part of him wants Yanjun still. Wants the other inside him, wants to please Yanjun and to fulfill his every desire.

 

Zhangjing knows that he is being irrational, he understands it more than anyone else. After all, he had been the one to initiate everything tonight, despite Yanjun’s suggestion to just head to sleep. He was the one who had seeked physical pleasure from Yanjun — even though he wants much more than that from the other. Remembering his shameless question to Yanjun earlier, asking if he wanted him — Zhangjing feels a tinge of bitterness. Even though Yanjun had answered with a definite ‘yes’ then, it did not mean that the younger man wanted Zhangjing the same way Zhangjing wanted him.

 

For a moment, upon seeing the other blank out, Yanjun looks as if he will give in and head to sleep, but Zhangjing feels the other’s lips against him in the next second: gentle, coaxing, as if he were kissing his lover for the first time. The thought stirs up chaotic feelings within Zhangjing and he struggles to break the kiss.  

 

It was hard enough to keep his feelings for Yanjun  in check when the other would keep a distance; if the other started treating him as if he were precious to him, it would be so much more difficult.

 

Yanjun frowns at Zhangjing’s constant rejection, but he looks more crestfallen than he is angry. “Zhangjing,” the younger man’s voice is soft, “indulge me tonight.” Unable to shake the feeling that they hold more weight than they should, Zhangjing obliges.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Yanjun is done for the fourth time, Zhangjing is beyond fatigued. He thinks that he will faint from the sensations if they go again, considering how can barely feel his body anymore, much less can his eyes keep open. “Yanjun,” he whines lazily, “can we stop?”

 

“You can,” the other replies, “but I want to go once more.”

 

At Zhangjing’s sound of protest, Yanjun kisses him on the lips and promises that it will be the last. At the other’s promise, Zhangjing lets his body relax against the bed.

 

When he feels Yanjun’s lips on his again, Zhangjing expects the other to skip straight to fucking him — after all, the other had been ridiculously impatient all night. However, Yanjun does otherwise: trailing soft kisses slowly across his body, his fingers massaging every inch of Zhangjing’s body to soothe the aches of their exertion — Zhangjing is confused at the drastic change in mood, but decides to enjoy it instead.

 

This time, Yanjun tells him before he slides into Zhangjing, leaning to kiss his forehead and to murmur words of comfort when Zhangjing winces from the soreness.

 

This time, Yanjun is slow and tender. Somehow, Zhangjing finds it even more pleasurable than when they are aggressively trying to fuck each other.

 

This time, Yanjun comes inside Zhangjing and lies beside him after, catching his breath and pressing gentle kisses onto the other’s skin.

 

This time, Yanjun doesn’t indulge in a long shower after. Instead, he retrieves a damp towel to wipe them both down before settling next to Zhangjing.

 

Zhangjing wonders if he is already dreaming when he feels Yanjun drape an arm over his waist, the other sleeping facing him for once. If it is a dream, Zhangjing thinks, he would not have anything to lose if he indulged in one other personal desire. If it is not, he thinks that Yanjun could at least excuse him, considering everything that had transpired that night.

 

Shifting, Zhangjing snuggles closer to the other. Not too much — but just so that his cheek is pressed into the crook of the younger man’s neck. It is highly uncomfortable, but Zhangjing imagines that Yanjun will push him away sooner or later anyway, so he pays it no heed.

 

Before he completely surrenders himself to slumber, Zhangjing feels another kiss on his forehead, followed by a mumble of words he can’t quite catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real challenge to write: I spent a long time sifting through new ideas that popped up while I wrote, finished the chapter while I was running a fever, and this is my first time writing smut (if it even counts) — so I really hope that you enjoyed this chapter to some point (*///Д///)
> 
> I will now crawl back into hibernation because I still can’t come to terms with the fact that I actually wrote this…


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